


Spyder

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-30
Updated: 1999-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 05:01:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11329104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Word Picture





	Spyder

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Spyder by Alicia

Archive/X: 27 July 1998  
Title: Spyder  
Author: Alicia  
Rating: NC-17  
Summary: Word picture.  
Pairing: Oh, probably M/K.  
Spoilers: None.  
Please archive at Archive/X, and elsewhere by request.  
Disclaimers: Anyone who can definitively state who these men are is welcome to sue me for borrowing them.  
Te *made* me send this in.  
Feedback, please, to .

* * *

*****  
Spyder, by Alicia  
5/98  
*****

Dry wind whipping up grit along the old two-lane highway. Quiet orchards--walnut trees?--spill away into the distance. The Spyder gleaming black under its fine coat of dust, hot engine ticking sluggishly. Slim, dark-haired man bent over the hood, palms stinging where they rest on burning metal. White v-neck T-shirt, damp with perspiration, stretches over his well-muscled shoulders and clings to his torso. Faded 501s tangle around his knees as his booted heels dig for purchase in the gravel at the side of the road. He is straining upwards, as desperate to receive what is being offered as the man above him (so like him in so many ways, both internal and external) is to deliver it. The fitful breeze that swirls about them encounters no words, just the inarticulate grunts and moans of two men trying to become one, if only imperfectly, only briefly.

*****


End file.
